She wondered if one could die of endless early morning TV.
The gone cold fried eggs with the subbed out cigarette
in its centre like a flying saucer
invaded her sense of self
"Is this what I've come to...?"
she asked a mirror.
The mirror kept shtum .
The plate smashed to smithereens on the cinnamon coloured wall
leaving a satisfying stain resembling Argentina
trailing down like a Rorschach test of how she was
feeling.
Another whiskey wouldn't hurt...would it?
*
“Chasing angels or fleeing demons, go to the mountains.” ― Jeffrey Rasley, Bringing Progress to Paradise: What I Got from Giving to a Mountain Village in Nepal